


A Light in the Window

by fluffernutter8



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Steggy Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 05:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19846753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffernutter8/pseuds/fluffernutter8
Summary: Steve and Peggy attempt their first real date.





	A Light in the Window

**Author's Note:**

> I felt significant second-hand awkwardness while writing this, so keep that in mind.

Four days after Steve wakes up in a hospital bed with Howard, pale and self-satisfied, blathering down at him about trackers in his suit and the wonders of the serum, he and Peggy go to the Stork Club. They turn slowly on the floor together even when the music dictates a faster pace, the stiffness and chill only just working its way out of Steve’s bones, the feeling of her against him too perfect to want to pull away. He even doesn’t release her hand until they reach the door of her building.

When he and Peggy arrange to meet on a Saturday evening for their first real date, he doesn’t have much planned. None of the things he can think of really inspire him: the city is bursting with returning service-members on their way to the movie houses, to dance halls and the shows on Broadway, and it doesn’t feel right to take Peggy somewhere so cliche. They haven’t had an opportunity to really talk with each other, not since those forever-past nights on watch or slogging from a dropoff point on the way to another Hydra base, so Steve decides on a simple walk through Brooklyn. They can continue getting to know each other, without being interrupted by bullets or Colonel Phillips’ voice over the radio (hopefully). He will have the comfort of all the familiar places of his neighborhood, and get a chance to introduce her to what is now her neighborhood too.

Except the stories of his childhood refuse to come off his tongue when all he can remember is standing alone on the Barnes stoop, knocking heavy-hearted on Bucky’s mother’s door. Instead, he can only manage to thank her again for the flowers she had brought to his hospital room.

“They really brightened up the place. I’ll have to send the Army a note about it so they can update the decor.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the advice. They aren’t particularly well-known for comfort or aesthetic, after all.” She gives a little smile. Her lipstick, he notices, is pink tonight, to match with the flowers on her dress. “I’m glad you enjoyed the flowers. I wasn’t sure what kind you would like.”

“Chrysanthemums were great,” he says earnestly, as if he hadn’t spent too long staring at them, wondering if they were supposed to send a particular message. Everyone knows that it’s roses that are for romance. Maybe chrysanthemums mean ‘I know it seemed that there was something between us, but I’ve reconsidered and we’re probably better off as friends.’ She did say yes when he’d asked her out, but...

He knows he isn’t exactly convincing her at the moment. _I guess this whole time it wasn’t my looks or my size that chased girls off_ , he thinks in mortification. _They could just tell I was lousy date._

They keep walking, each bringing up new topics - the apartment Steve’s rented, the position Peggy is meant to start at the SSR’s New York office now that she is finished in Europe and living here permanently - that fizzle after not nearly long enough. The silences between each attempt at a conversation starter feel endless, each a chasm of infinite and humiliating depth.

He is about ready to find a movie house to point to in desperation and say, “Oh good, we’re here!” as if they’d needed to walk for three quarters of an hour to find just this one. And then it begins to rain.

“We can try to outrun it,” Peggy suggests as the first light drops fall into her hands and hair. “I know that we—” But she is cut off by the snap and boom of thunder, and then by the opening of the heavens.

Steve snatches a discarded newspaper off a nearby bench and tries to hold it over her head as they pick up their pace. It’s sodden within seconds and he tosses it away again.

“Come on!” He takes her hand. It’s after dusk, and with the rain pouring so thick that it’s like fog, there’s nearly no visibility. It would be easy for them to lose each other by accident.

They struggle down the street, and Steve is certain that she doesn’t have a particular destination in mind either, other than ‘dry.’

When he sees a lighted window, he can’t tell what sort of business it belongs too and he doesn’t care. He holds the door open for Peggy and follows her inside.

“Giulia!” calls a woman’s voice before Steve can even blink the water out of his eyes and take in his surroundings. “Two of the minestrone, and use the biggest bowls we have.”

“You can come into the kitchen yourself, you know. There won’t be much longer for it,” says another woman crankily.

“She’s too busy losing to me,” crows a third.

It’s a restaurant, but barely: only four tables, each covered in a crisp white cloth, and each empty except for the one where two women face each other over a chessboard. Steve thinks he could reach so his fingertips touch each wall. There’s a banner that stretches easily across the length of the place that reads “Closing! Last night!”

It also smells incredible, herbs and yeast and food treated with care.

“You know, Lia’s right,” says the first woman, standing and disappearing into what Steve presumes is the world’s smallest kitchen. He looks at Peggy and finds her somewhere between confused and amused. (Also soaking wet in a way that manages to look fetching, but mostly makes him want to find her a blanket or some dry clothes. He’d offer his jacket, but considering the way it’s dripping onto the floor, he doesn’t think it would be of much help.)

The last woman looks down at the board, chuckles to herself, then pushes her chair back and walks over to Steve and Peggy. “Have a seat,” she tells them, and rather than pointing to one of the empty tables, she indicates the one which has just been vacated.

“Um,” Steve gets out eloquently.

“Where are we, precisely?” Peggy asks.

The woman laughs roundly. “It’s Romano’s,” she says, and the two women join her in harmony from the back. The woman continues, “Lia’s husband finally saved up enough to buy it right before he died, and now she’s been trying to honor him for as long as she can. Tina and I just stay around to keep her company.”

“Don’t pretend as if I don’t feed you, Lessia.” The kitchen door opens again and the other two women come back out. Tina is carrying two enormous portions of steaming soup, while Giulia, wearing a clean if slightly floury apron, holds a wooden cutting board with what looks like fresh bread.

Lined up beside each other, they are clearly sisters, each with the same frame (short and full, but straight-backed) and the same hair (a curling black clearly on its way to gray, pulled back over their ears and in matching buns) and the same frown at the couple still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Sit,” Lessia says again, crossing her arms, the only free pair.

It’s not particularly an offer anymore, but Steve says, “That’s kind of you, but we were just going to wait out the rain.”

“You’d be waiting until your hair was as gray as ours,” Tina says firmly. “This weather will hold for a good while. Listen.” She’s right. The rain continues to pound without sign of lightening or moving past the city.

“The two of you are soaking wet.” Giulia adds a bit of coaxing to her voice, but it still has that unmoving steel beneath it. “And you wouldn’t let my husband’s dream restaurant close without a single customer on the last night, hmm? We lack customers simply because we lack atmosphere, nothing to do with the food.”

“Truly, Lia will be very sad if she cannot feed _someone_ before she sells off the place,” Tina says, making a comically morose face as she sets one bowl on either side of the chessboard and pulls out the closer chair suggestively.

Steve doesn’t really know exactly what the right move is here, but then he notices the gooseflesh between the bottom of Peggy’s still-dripping hair and the slightly dipping back of her dress. “Soup sounds great,” he says, and gestures for Peggy to take the seat Tina has pulled out for her.

The soup _is_ great. He and Peggy glance up at each other as they spoon up the hearty vegetables and full broth, and for some reason those little moments without speech don’t feel awkward anymore.

“Can I cut you some?” Steve asks, gesturing to the loaf Giulia had rested beside him before the three sisters vanished together back into the kitchen together.

“You can.” As Steve slices, Peggy takes a chess pawn in each hand and extends her curled fists to him. Putting down the knife, he taps her left hand and she hands him the black piece.

“At a disadvantage already,” she says, peering at him nonchalantly through her eyelashes as she arranges her side of the board to erase the game Lessia and Tina had been playing.

“Don’t know that I need an advantage,” he says, lifting an eyebrow at her. “Four things I did while sick in bed: draw, read, play cards, and learn chess. And I was in bed a lot.”

“I suppose we’ll see if it’s paid off,” and despite the challenge of her tone, her voice is warm.

She wins the first game handily (unfortunate - she might have an accent and act polite about it, but Peggy Carter trash talks), and he battles her hard for her second victory. The third game looks as if it might be his, as long as he doesn’t get distracted by the stories she tells about her childhood, as long as he doesn’t lose focus as he tries to make her laugh. He’s still chuckling over her description of learning to ride a bicycle having stolen her brother’s, examining his knight to make sure she’s not luring him into a trap, when the sisters come out of the kitchen looking apologetic but firm.

“The rain has stopped,” Lessia says. Steve notices for the first time that she's right. He wonders when that happened.

Giulia adds, “The new owner of the restaurant will be here early tomorrow morning and I would like to have a good sleep before.” She holds up a small cardboard box tied with twine. “Something sweet to take on your way.”

“You've already done too much,” Steve protests, already standing in embarrassment and taking out his wallet. For all the talk about getting an early night, it must be close to eleven. They’ve been here for hours.

"Put it away," Giulia tells him, waving a hand. She has an enormous purse over one shoulder, obviously ready to step right out and go home. "My husband wanted to start this place to feed people, not to make money."

"Obviously," Tina says mischievously. "Lucky thing you know how to cook, because Marco was absolutely hopeless."

"You really are marvelous," Peggy says.

Giulia gives a graceful shrug, closing her eyes as a look of humble satisfaction crosses her face. "And now I will hand over the keys to the next dreamer." 

"And perhaps go cook for the handsome man next door instead," says Lessia. "And be certain to tell him of the lovers who came in on our last night here. Perhaps it will give him the right idea."

Giulia scoffs just as Steve says, wrestling down a blush, "We're not—"

"Don't try to pretend with an old woman," says Lessia, eagle-eyed. "Perhaps it's just the beginning, but everything that lasts has one of those."

"Now go," Tina adds, flicking her wrist in a little sweeping gesture. "The beginning continues, but elsewhere."

The air is a little cooler as they step out again, and without thinking Steve puts an arm around Peggy's shoulder.

"The serum has some added benefits," he blurts when she looks up at him, but she just smiles.

He has seen her smile in so many ways - large ones which she leans into after a victory or a point well-made, tiny, hidden smiles like punctuation - and he doesn't think he'll ever tire of discovering all the different kinds she has within herself. He's so lucky to have the chance.

"I'm happy to enjoy all of those benefits." The box of dessert they'd been gifted with hangs by the string from his finger, and she slides her finger in beside it. "Shall we enjoy these as well?"

They each bite into the little chocolate cakes, and Steve doesn't even feel embarrassed when she reaches up and brushes away crumbs that have been left behind.

In fact, he has the sense that he might actually get to taste what chocolate tastes like on her mouth tonight.

He had worried, somehow, that they were people brought together by war, that perhaps they would not know how to be together in peace. For some time tonight, it seemed that his fears were realized. But Peggy is still quick and kind and unswerving and unequivocally herself, and somehow she still likes him.

He’s never been so happy to be wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Firsts and lasts (I'm swerving again)
> 
> You know on Chopped or whatever when a chef serves a plate that they know is kinda jumbled, incoherent garbage but they plunk it in front of the judges anyway and say "Enjoy"? That's me right now. Enjoy!


End file.
